I cannot be felt, seen or touched. Yet I can be found in everybody. My existence is always in debate. Yet I have my own style of music.

I cannot be felt, seen or touched. Yet I can be found in everybody. My existence is always in debate. Yet I have my own style of music.

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What is it that makes tears without sorrow and takes its journey to heaven?

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They're up near the sky, on something very tall. Sometimes they die, only then do they fall.

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You throw away the outside, eat the inside, then throw away the inside. What is it?

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One day a little boy named John went over to his parents and said that he wanted to shoot people and blow them up. His parents were really proud of his career choice. What does John want to do?

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What gets wetter as it dries?

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Riddle of the Day

Mar 14, 2026

They are many and one, they wave and they drum, Used to cover a state, they go with you everywhere.

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